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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28593378">if you think that you're strong enough</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssolaris/pseuds/ssolaris'>ssolaris</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Calm Before The Storm, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Tommy needs a hug, but lol here we are, i never thought in 2021 id be writing fanfic ab a minecraft roleplay, the night before doomsday, tommy and tubbo really wanna hug but the rift is too much now :(</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:49:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28593378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssolaris/pseuds/ssolaris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe he's allowed a small moment of peace before doomsday.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>if you think that you're strong enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy doesn’t manage to get much rest. Every time he closes his eyes, starts to feel warmth and dull exhaustion blanketing over him, he’s awoken just as fast by a sharp pang in his chest. Visions of explosions, carnage, <em>withers,</em> dance around in his mind in a constant loop and it is torture.</p><p>They don’t have much more time.</p><p>Hours pass, after Tommy had left everyone to go rest at his house, and they continue to pass until the moon looms high over them all. Tommy finally grows sick of warring with the cruel cycle of insomnia he’s been trapped in for weeks, and drags himself out of bed. He lingers by his ender chest, before pushing through his front door, to extract a disc and bring it with him.</p><p>It’s chilly out, tonight. The air is dry, and a quiet wind bristles through him, instilling him with muted, but jarring, fear.</p><p>Tommy thinks to himself that he should probably get to work soon, since trying to get any sleep is proving to be a waste of time anyway. All of them could use <em>more,</em> and he’s fairly certain he won’t be the only one busy preparing for tomorrow afternoon. He could go mining for materials, hunt for game, scavenge around for some brewing supplies—anything would help.</p><p>Not yet, though, he tells himself, perhaps selfishly. He can feel time slipping through his fingers by the second, its grains of sand too slippery in his weathered fingers for him to ever hope to stop it. But Tommy is tired, despite it all, despite the nightmares, and he’s already gotten a disc out and his bench is just over there.</p><p>Maybe he’s allowed a small moment of peace before doomsday.</p><p>It’s nearly pitch black out, the moonlight ensnared and melting amongst the clouds, behind infrastructure and cobblestone towers. Tommy wobbly ambles towards the bench, and he can’t tell if it’s the lack of lighting that disorients him, or the gut-wrenching anxiety that has gripped him all night.</p><p>He finds the jukebox and slots the disc in, sighing alongside the opening notes of its melody as it starts to play. When he turns to take a seat on the bench, however, his breath catches in his throat and he almost chokes.</p><p>Tubbo is here, staring at him blankly, almost glowing against the night sky. The president looks ragged, in nothing but slacks and a loose, ripped and blood-stained button up, his red tie undone and slung carelessly over his shoulders. And although Tommy knows they’ve dealt with quite different situations over the past few weeks since his exile, for a brief moment it’s like he’s staring in a mirror.</p><p>They lock eyes, silent, encased in the music and the cold air, both an equal distance from the bench. It would appear that Tommy is not the only one who’s been having trouble sleeping tonight. And it would appear that he’s not the only one still fond of this bench, the memories it holds. A time capsule that leads back to simpler times, times of trust and faith; companionship.</p><p>When it starts to look like neither will forfeit, Tommy breaks the eye contact to slump down on the bench. Tubbo hesitates before doing the same. There is a poignant space between them, like they’re both cramming themselves as far away from each other as they can, squeezing themselves to the furthest edges of the bench.</p><p>Tommy wants to hug him so badly.</p><p>Instead, he says, softly, “We’re talking about it tomorrow,” a repetition of what they both agreed on earlier. There were simply more pressing matters at hand, and they didn’t have any other choice than to neglect the breadth of <em>everything</em> they needed to work through with each other. And they will work through it, in time. Assuming they survive past tomorrow, anyways. “Everything.”</p><p>Tubbo doesn’t say anything for a while. Tommy shuts his eyes and leans his head back, soaking himself in the disc’s thoughtful hums and harmonies emanating around them.</p><p>Maybe it’s all in his head, but Tommy feels like he can feel the muffled hatred Tubbo carries with him, radiating onto him. It makes him want to push Tubbo further away, run back to some other place he’s probably not welcome at.</p><p>(He ignores the petrifying idea that, after tomorrow, if Tubbo decides to make him resume his exile, he will quite literally have nowhere else to go.)</p><p>Tommy hasn’t liked looking at his reflection lately. During his stay with Techno, he’d recovered significantly from his time in Logstedshire, but there are still some tears in his clothes and ghosts of the dark circles under his eyes still linger. He can’t remember the last time he got a good night’s rest. Certainly not before exile. Dimly, he wonders how Tubbo has been sleeping lately; if he can relate, on any level, to the shame and terror and isolation that Tommy drowns in every day.</p><p>Rubbing his face, he wishes he could let go of his demons for just a little while, just for tonight. He needs to be at his best tomorrow, after all. He needs sleep.</p><p>But every time Tommy’s eyes are closed for too long he’s only reminded of how alone he is. He’s reminded of Dream, shaking his head disappointedly, destroying everything, taunting him. He’s reminded of the scathing look Tubbo had casted him as Dream shoved him off the wall and dragged him forcibly from L’Manburg. And now he thinks of today, in the ruins of the Community House, everyone all around him; the mistrust, the <em>resentment,</em> painted across all their faces.</p><p><em>How could you do this, Tommy?</em> they’d all asked him, but it wasn’t with disbelief. Just more hurt, as though this had only confirmed their beliefs of him. <em>Tommy fucked up, again. This is why we exiled you. Traitor.</em></p><p>He knew it was pointless to try and convince them otherwise, because he’d long since lost their trust. And a more noble part of him, one he didn’t often listen to until recently, knew that this was more important than him. It didn’t matter what happened tomorrow, to him or any other individual; they just needed to stop Dream and Techno, and save L’Manburg.</p><p>Tommy wonders, now, if Tubbo still sits beside him in disgust, betrayal, barely holding himself together as he sits not a few inches away from someone he’s grown to despise. As though—as though Tommy were the bad guy, a villain, not his best friend. The thought grinds him to pieces, shattered, picked apart by vultures. <em>Can’t he catch a fucking break?</em></p><p>“I missed this,” Tubbo finally says under his breath.</p><p>Tommy doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, solemnly, “Me too.”</p><p>The music swells, and with it, Tommy’s heart. He wants to hope that he can fix this. Everything. Not just L’Manburg, but himself, everything he cares about, everything he’s ruined.</p><p>The discs are—</p><p>
  <em>(Not worthless. It can’t all be for nothing.)</em>
</p><p>But, he knows, in the back of his mind, that’s what they are.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>And Tubbo means too much to him to be <em>nothing.</em> They were never more important than him, and Tommy’s words from earlier scald his tongue, itch the back of his throat. He wants to take it all back. <em>Sorry</em> doesn’t even begin to cover it.</p><p>“Whatever happens tomorrow,” Tommy starts, slowly, not quite sure where he’s going with this, “I hope you know I’ll always have your back. I’ll die for this country if I have to.”</p><p>Tubbo does not respond.</p><p>“I’d give everything up, just to—just to prove myself again.” And then Tommy whispers, the words tingling on his lips, “I am worthy. I am. I know it.”</p><p>The silence persists, and it makes Tommy squirm. He sits up, squinting through the dark. Tubbo is sunken in his seat, partly curled into himself, his breathing steady and deep, and Tommy realizes that Tubbo has dozed off. The sight, although obscured by the night, brings a smile to his face. Tommy looks at him, and then lets his eyes fall shut again too, deciding to give another go at sleep as well.</p><p>When he opens his eyes again, the sun peeks over the horizon at him. And the music isn’t playing anymore, the disc instead placed carefully beside him on the bench, and Tubbo is already gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i've been behind on the smp for weeks, until the last few days when i decided to binge vods until literally last night right after the green festival streams. anyways i'm sucked back in now and i wrote this drabble in the hour i spent waiting for the sad-ist animatic to premiere last night LMAOO bc my brain has been consumed by tommyinnit &lt;3</p><p>usually i wouldn't write &amp; post with such a quick turnaround, but this thing's so short and i wanted to post it before doomsday in a few hours bc who knows what's going to happen lol. umm yea anyways thx for reading :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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